Memories and Dreams
by mimma
Summary: Farfarello raised both his eyebrows –he never mastered just one- and Schuldig gives that dry little shoulder shrug that means ‘humor me’.


Memories and dreams

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kreuz.

Warnings: spoilers, hint of Yaoi.

Rating: G

Summary: Farfarello raised both his eyebrows –he never mastered just one- and Schuldig gives that dry little shoulder shrug that means 'humor me'.

"Oh." Schuldig cursed himself for a momentary flinch. Of course it would be him.

Who else would it be?

_Who else could it be? , _a cynical little voice he wasn't sure he liked pointed out dryly.

Farfarello looked up and let the empty socket of his ruined eye flash.

He wore no eye patch at night. It was enough of a struggle getting him to wear one outside. The man cared nothing for the aesthetical sensibilities of the outside world. The rest of Schwarz had insisted.

Nagi had insisted on not having people cross the street to avoid them. Schuldig had insisted on not having to hear more stupid, meaningless voices intruding on his mind. Crawford had insisted on not looking at that ugly hole.

At the insistence of these people, bodies, minds and lives had been ruined, lost and saved. Not necessarily in that order. Their combined insistence cowed even the fanatical Berserker. However, Farfarello could be pretty damn insistent when he wanted to be. Outside, _only._

Schuldig had come out suffering another one of his recent fits of insomnia. Farfarello had insomnia written into his constitution.

By mutual consent, they both sat and sipped hot drinks in a companionable silence.

The members of Schwarz had a lingering affection for each other, a comfortable sense of family. All four walked worlds none other could or would understand. All used up any lingering morality that had not been beat out at Rosenkreuz or their own twisted upbringings in the fulfillment of plans to topple an organization which spanned half the world.

However, the guilty one's thoughts were not lingering on the interpersonal dynamics of his ridiculously dysfunctional family, however, he was thinking about when someone else sat across from the unfaltering believer and sipped a drink in silence. These thoughts are tinged with the acid-sour bitterness of jealousy. Schuldig has never precisely divined the reason Crawford chose Farfarello, of all people. He really does not think he wants to.

As if sensing the slightly antagonistic turn of Schuldig's thoughts –maybe, just maybe, the telepath was projecting a bit-, Farfarello tilts his head to the side and speaks.

"Yer trying fer somethin' ye'll never hav', not fully, ye know." The thick brogue has only been slightly dulled by years of the mellow Japanese tongue. It is strange, but not unpleasant. A strange voice, to say strange things. It fits him somehow, rough voice, rough nature and a fragile, teetering sanity that he sometimes abandons completely for delirium and a freedom even he does not truly understand.

Schuldig knows, knows that he will never have Brads full –love? attention?- whatever it was he sought from the Oracle, but he has settled for less before. Who other than a telepath –who has never had full control of his power, full silence in his mind- would know firsthand that less was better than none at all?

He knows why, but he wants to hear the 'lunatic's' version of it, so he asks. He likes hearing other perspectives, that is why he does not completely hate his power.

Farfarello raised both his eyebrows –he never mastered just one- and Schuldig gives that dry little shoulder shrug that means 'humor me'.

Farfarello adjusts to the latest mood of the volatile redhead and takes a gulp of his now lukewarm drink.

"Oracle-" It is odd, thinks Schuldig, that of them all only Farfarello refuses their given names and calls them his own. "- does not truly live in the present." Farfarello takes a deep breath and translates the labyrinth of his mind to spoken words. This is a rare mood for both of them.

"Oracle is memories and dreams, not thoughts." Here Schuldig's eyes darken slightly. Nagi is the only one who does not know that the Great Escape, the daring plan to topple Esset was because of Brad's promise to a dying friend. The failed escape from Rosenkreuz… Schuldig did not know Crawford then, but he heard the story, first from rumors, then from the man himself. Brad had seen that they would fail this escape yet he went through with it, hoping against hope that he would be wrong.

He was not.

He was the only would-be escapee to survive the punishments, usable seers were too rare to waste. He came out alive, not intact. It always amazed Schuldig that the most emotionally detached, controlled man he knew based his life's purpose on that single moment of emotion.

_It's always the quiet ones,_ a portion of his mind offered up. Some other cynical parts of his mind laughed and laughed and laughed. Or maybe it was someone else's mind.

Farfarello does not offer anymore insights or analysis. Perhaps he is bored.

The grey light of dawn peeks through the blinds, and suddenly Schuldig is tired. He gets up and leaves his cup on the table – Nagi or Brad will clean it up – and walks to his room and rolls into his bed fully clothed. He fell into a sleep blissfully devoid of thoughts, a sleep consisting only of memories and dreams.

Farfarello does not think Schuldig will have any more problem sleeping.

whooo…. This was weird. Review!!


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